


Untitled

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Quest VIII
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marek visits Baccarat, Cash Golding seduces him into a bit of gambling and smooching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Marek had never felt more out of place than he did in Baccarat.  He had come to the city at the request of Alexej, Orkutsk's weapons dealer, who had fallen ill and was unable to make his own yearly trip down south to trade.  Marek had reluctantly agreed when the dealer swore that Marek was the only person he trusted to make the trip for him, but now he regretted the decision even though he had brought enough nook grass to make a few trades of his own.

The doctor had never been farther south than Arcadia, and he had gone there only a few times in his lifetime, more than forty years.  He had had even less reason to leave Orkutsk once he became the village doctor, but now that he had rebuilt his late mother's destroyed cottage and moved there to care for the shrine behind it, another, younger man had taken over his duties in the village.

Now Marek wished he hadn't left home.  Accompanied by Boris, his mother's St. Bernard, he had reached Baccarat in the late afternoon after spending two days at the bazaar in Argonia.  There, Marek had concluded all of Alexej's business, then left his acquisitions with an Argonian friend of Alexej for a short detour.  Alexej had insisted that Marek visit Baccarat to assure the owners of its large casino that he would return the next year for his usual gambling vacation.  Apparently, the casino was a very big deal to Alexej, and he didn't want to lose its owners' esteem.

Marek and Boris found themselves amidst a bustling crowd, many of whom were already headed to the casino.  Marek managed to push through the crowd to Baccarat's hotel, where Alexej always stayed during his trips.  He hadn't understood why the dealer had given him instructions to inform the staff that Marek was taking his place that year, but it made more sense when the clerk fawned over him and immediately showed him-- and Boris-- to the finest room in the hotel: apparently Alexej was one of Baccarat's best customers, and his visits were much anticipated.

Marek didn't intend to bet a single gold piece in the casino, but he kept that to himself-- especially when he received an invitation to dine that night with Cash and Carrie Golding, the young twins who owned the casino and hotel.  As much as he dreaded social events, Marek decided he had better go for the sake of keeping on good terms with the people of Baccarat.

_Maybe I can get something valuable for my extra nook grass,_ he thought as he washed in the enormous tub in his room's attached bath.  _We had such a harvest this year. . . .   Mama would be proud._

Boris started to pad out the door beside Marek when he left for dinner that evening.  Marek chuckled and stopped the huge St. Bernard.  
  
"I am sorry, but I do not think you would be very welcome at the dinner table of those rich little brats."  Boris gave him a scornful look, which only made Marek smile more.  "I will try to bring you back a snack, all right?"

"Av!" barked Boris in a tone that seemed to mean, _You'd better._   The dog then reluctantly turned back into the room and curled up on the floor to await his master's return.

The sun was setting as Marek walked across town to the Goldings' mansion.  He supposed the sunset was pretty enough, but the whole place seemed too garishly colorful after the pristine, calm white of Orkutsk and its surrounding countryside.  The flashing lights of the casino competed with the sunset's colors in a way that threatened to give him a headache.

There was a guard standing outside the Golding mansion, but he let Marek in immediately.  The assorted maids and staff members inside the mansion were just as gracious, although Marek suspected that their good will wasn't genuine.  Who would want to work for a couple of spoiled kids with nothing better to do than order you around?  Besides, after being raised by a mother who always taught him to do for himself, Marek was uncomfortable with being waited on.  He was also uncomfortable with the temperature, he realized after he was seated in the parlor to wait for the Goldings to appear.  Marek had underestimated just how much warmer the climate was in Baccarat than in Orkutsk, and even though he had brought his lightest garments, he was still too hot.

When the twins finally made their entrance, they were about what he had expected: attractive but with arrogant faces and elaborate, uniform-like attire.  As Marek stood, the boy approached him with the girl close behind and extended a slender hand.

"So you're here to substitute for Alexej," he said with an accent that made all his words sound vaguely flippant.  "I do hope he isn't too ill.  I'm Cash, and this is my little sister, Carrie."  Carrie made a low "hmph" sound at being referred to as younger.

"I'm Marek," the doctor replied gruffly as he briefly shook the young man's hand.  It felt like Cash hadn't done a day of real work in his life; his skin was as soft and smooth as a little child's-- except for the palm, where Marek felt a rough callous.  As Cash withdrew his hand, Marek saw that its palm bore some kind of scar.  A moment later, when Carrie reached up to smooth her hair, Marek noticed an identical scar on her left palm.

There were a few other surprises about the two.  Up close, they seemed even younger than he had expected, far too young to be managing a business.  A smattering of freckles across each's slightly up-turned nose made them look even more childish.  What surprised Marek even more was how attractive they really were, despite their youth and the blemish of freckles-- especially Cash.  Marek had always been more attracted to men than to women (something which was best kept secret in a small town like Orkutsk), but he had never before seen a man quite like Cash Golding.  He was slightly effeminate, a trait which was accented by the fact that he was dressed nearly identically to his sister, right down to the tight black leggings he wore under his jacket.  However, he was unmistakably male, which made it all the more charming.

After a few moments of rather forced conversation about Alexej and his illness, the three sat down to dinner, served by a young maid.  The food was delicious, though rich for Marek's tastes, and he tried to concentrate on eating rather than on his hosts' conversation, particularly Carrie's incessant babbling.

"When we finish eating, we'll take you to see the casino," she chattered.  "Like, it's the _real_ reason Alexej comes here; I'm sure he could do all of his trading in Argonia.  Still, it's to be expected since _our_ casino is the best in the world, not like that trashy one in Pickham, and. . . ."

Marek tuned her out and instead glanced again at Cash.  The young man happened to raise his eyes at exactly that moment, and he met Marek's gaze.  Cash rolled his eyes in response to his sister's nattering and smirked slightly, as if he were sharing something privately with Marek.  Marek immediately looked down at his plate again as his heartbeat raced.

_He's far too young for me to even notice_ , Marek told himself.  Somehow, that made Cash seem even more enticing.

After dinner, the twins walked to the casino with Marek.  Carrie slipped her arm through his and leaned on him slightly as they went, still talking animatedly.  Obviously, she was used to flirting with important customers to drum up business.  Marek felt rather sorry for her; he knew he was far from her type.

The casino was as garish inside as out.  A crowd of bunny girls and male attendants greeted them as they entered, fawning over first Cash and Carrie, then Marek when they realized he was standing in for Alexej.  Cash excused himself and left them to discuss the day's income with the bunny girl who sold casino tokens in exchange for gold.  Left alone with Carrie, Marek was dragged over to a roulette table where he steadfastly refused to play.

As Carrie repeatedly explained the rules to him and tried to coax him into placing a bet-- using tokens she provided no less-- Marek's gaze wandered back to Cash.  The young man was leaning over the token counter, eagerly counting a pile of gold coins.  The position had caused his short jacket to rise in the back, revealing just how tight his black leggings were.  Marek quickly looked away, but his eyes kept returning to the boy of their own accord.

_Two whole days before I can get out of here,_ Marek though dismally.  _I never thought I would look so forward to going home._

\--

After taking stock of the casino's profits so far that evening-- and being quite pleased with the results-- Cash wandered around greeting patrons at the slot machines and trying to make himself useful.  That was fairly difficult in a casino that practically ran itself, especially since Carrie was completely dominating their guest.

Still, it was a plan they had worked out a while back: Carrie flirted with the important male guests, while Cash was in charge of the females.  Cash had never considered that it might be otherwise-- at least not until Carrie came flouncing over to him after they'd been in the casino an hour or so.

"I need to talk to you," she hissed, grasping his sleeve and dragging him towards the door that led from the casino into the hotel.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."  Cash followed her into the upstairs corridor of the hotel, where they could speak in relative privacy.  "What is it?"

"It's our 'guest of honor'-- I can't do anything with him!" Carrie exploded, throwing her hands in the air.  "He won't place any bets, and he isn't paying the least bit of attention to me.  In fact, he keeps staring at _you_."

"Me?"  Cash felt his cheeks flush.

"Yeah, I don't know what anybody would see in you either," Carrie smirked, "but there's no accounting for some people's tastes.  Anyway, if he likes you, then _you_ go get him to spend some money."

"But-- he's a _guy_."

Carrie shrugged.  "Hey, you're the one who said you'd do anything for the business. . . big brother."  She sauntered  back into the casino, leaving Cash fretting outside the doors.

_I can't go flirt with another guy!  What if someone sees me?_ he thought unhappily.  Still, he _had_ claimed he would do whatever it took to make the casino succeed. . . and besides, if he could induce the taciturn northerner to gamble, Cash would be doing what Carrie couldn't.

_That's it,_ Cash told himself as he pushed the doors leading into the casino open.  _It's just a challenge, one I can beat Carrie at!_ He took a deep breath as he walked back into the casino, glancing at the bunny girl at the token counter as he passed her.  _And seducing a guy can't be **that** hard-- I've seen the bunnies do it a thousand times!_

Nevertheless, his heart pounded harder as he approached his target.  Marek was still seated at the roulette table, scowling with his arms folded.  He looked dreadfully out of place among the casino's usual clientele with his rumpled hair and unshaven face, but Cash couldn't help but find something about him attractive.  He was so different from anyone else in Baccarat-- the greedy men and simpering women, neither of whom Cash found very appealing.

_Who knew I liked the scruffy, rugged type instead,_ he thought sardonically.  He took a deep breath, then sat down with a smile next to the older man.

"Carrie tells me you aren't having any fun," Cash purred.

Marek started in surprise and glanced at him, then looked morosely back at the roulette wheel.  "I do not gamble."

"Then there's no time like the present to start!" enthused Cash.

"Why waste money on an outcome I cannot control?" the northerner returned brusquely with another, more annoyed look at Cash.

"So you like to be in control," Cash mused with a slightly suggestive hint to his voice.  Surprisingly, he was starting to _like_ flirting with another guy.  "Then why don't you try the slot machines?  No dealer, you. . . pull it yourself."

Marek narrowed his thick eyebrows.  "Will you two leave me alone if I place a bet?"

Cash gaped at him, indignant and slightly hurt.  "You certainly are rude!"

"I did not ask to be here!" Marek snapped back, then his expression softened just a little as he studied Cash.  "I. . . sorry.  You are right."  He sighed and stood.  "All right, I will try it once."

Cash was quite nonplussed at Marek's behavior, but he didn't want to do anything to discourage the older man from placing that bet.  He got up as well and gestured towards the slot machines.

"Your first pull's on the house," he offered, but Marek shook his head.

"No, I will pay for my own tokens," he replied loftily, stalking towards the token counter.  Cash sighed and trotted after him.  Marek purchased 2000 tokens, then studied the slot machines.

"Those are one-token machines," Cash explained, pointing, "and those over there are ten-token.  And _that_ one's a hundred-token machine."

"Hmn," mumbled Marek, then he started for the hundred-token machine.

"You're sure you don't want to start with something smaller?" Cash asked, apprehensive that their guest would lose all his money but impressed with his courage nevertheless.  Marek just gave him an exasperated look before turning to the machine.

Marek placed bets on all five lines, spending five hundred tokens on his first pull.  He lost all of it, and Cash frowned as Marek immediately put in five hundred more.  Not that Cash minded Marek spending lots of tokens; he just didn't seem to be enjoying it at all.  In fact, he looked as if he were trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.  He lost that five hundred too, and the next. 

"Are you going to get more tokens?" Cash asked nervously as Marek put in his last tokens.

"No," Marek said gruffly, pulling the handle.  "This is it."

"But you can't come to Baccarat and only bet-- two. . . thousand. . . ."  Cash trailed off as the slot machine spun to a stop.  Its face revealed three 7s in a straight line, right across the middle.

"You. . . just won a hundred thousand tokens," Cash gaped.  The machine had started playing the fanfare tune with which it regaled its big winners; Marek winced and looked around as if he hoped no one had noticed.  Cash was amused to see that he was actually blushing; the flush of color in his unshaven cheeks made him look oddly cute.

"Congratulations," Cash cooed as Marek reluctantly took his winnings from the machine.  "With that many tokens to play with, you could really make a bundle."

"I told you, I am not placing any more bets."  Marek shoved the ten 10,000-token pieces into his pocket.  "So what do I do with these things, anyway?"

"Well, you can trade tokens in for items," Cash explained, though he was slightly miffed.

"Oh."  Marek didn't look impressed.  "I will get something later then.  How do I get back to the hotel from here?"

"Through that door," Cash pointed, then he glared.  "Wait, you mean you're turning in _now_?  It's still early!"  _Carrie will kill me if I let him get away this soon,_ he thought. _Or worse, she'll laugh at me._

Marek sighed heavily.  "How many times do I have to tell you?  I do not want to gamble."

Cash desperately tried to think of some other way to hold the older man's interest.  Finally, an idea occurred to him.  "Well, if you don't want to gamble, I do have another suggestion.  Have you ever been to a bunny show?"  
  
"A _what_?"

Cash smirked and grasped Marek's arm.  "Come with me."

"Wait, where are we going?"  Marek stumbled after him as Cash pulled him towards the door leading into the hotel.  
  
"Downstairs.  Alexej finds it _very_ entertaining, so I'm sure you'll like it."

"Wait!" Marek said again, stopping and pulling away when they were in the hall of the hotel.  "I do not want to go to any kind of show.  I have. . . things to do."  
  
"Yeah?"  Cash folded his arms and glared at him.  "Like what?"

Marek narrowed his eyes.  "I must walk my dog."

"Nice try.  I'll tell the bellhop to go do it on our way downstairs."  On a whim, Cash leaned forward and jabbed him in the chest with a finger.  "I'm every bit as stubborn as you are, you know."

Marek's mouth flickered in what might have been a suppressed smile.  "In that case, I suppose I should give in before we end up arguing all night.  As long as you make sure Boris is walked."

True to his word, Cash ordered one of the hotel attendants to go to Marek's room and walk his dog, then he escorted the northerner down to the basement where the bunny girls performed nightly.  They sat in the front row, which was reserved for the Goldings and their guests although neither Cash nor Carrie attended very frequently.  They were just in time for the beginning of the show, but as the girls pranced out of the wings, Marek folded his arms and sat back with a bored expression.

Cash noticed this with some curiosity, and he continued to glance at Marek from time to time as the bunnies sang and danced.  The northerner didn't seem interested in the least-- quite unlike most of the other men present.

_No wonder he didn't pay any attention to Carrie-- he's not interested in girls at all!_ Cash thought.  He smiled slightly and looked at Marek again, only to find the older man looking down at Cash's own legs.  Cash felt himself blush.  _He's more interested in **me**!  _

Cash crossed his legs with deliberate slowness, sliding the hem of his jacket farther upward to reveal more of his thighs.  When he next looked up, Marek was staring straight ahead at the parading bunny girls instead of at him.  Cash scowled and decided to try a different tactic.  He leaned over towards Marek, resting his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Aren't they just lovely?" he cooed in a whisper.  "We only hire the most _talented_ performers."

"Mn."  Marek glanced at him, then drew back slightly when he realized how close Cash was to him.  Not about to give up that easily, Cash put his other hand on Marek's arm and pressed one leg against the older man's.

"I think that one on the left end is absolutely the best of the group," Cash breathed in Marek's ear.  "She has _fabulous_ legs.  Don't you agree?"

"I-I suppose," Marek finally said hesitantly.

"You 'suppose'?" Cash asked teasingly.  "You know, you don't seem very impressed by our bunnies."  He rubbed his leg slowly against Marek's.  "Don't they. . . interest you?  Or is this not your kind of thing?"

"Not exactly," Marek replied tersely.  "That is what I have told you all evening."  He glanced down at Cash's leg, and his face colored visibly.  Cash smiled triumphantly and slid his hand down Marek's arm, then moved the older man's hand onto his thigh.  Marek drew in his breath sharply-- but, Cash noticed, he didn't make any effort to move his hand.

"In that case," murmured Cash, "we might as well leave during intermission.  I'll just have to find some other way to entertain you."

\--

Marek wondered just what Cash was up to.  _He cannot really **enjoy** flirting with me,_ he thought, yet that was most definitely what the young man was doing.  Marek slowly contracted his hand over Cash's slender thigh, feeling the taut muscle beneath his fingers.  In response, Cash pressed his leg harder into Marek's grip, and Marek heard him draw in a slow breath.

_I should not be doing this,_ Marek thought, guilty over the desire he already felt for the much younger man.  Cash must have the idea that seducing him would lead to Marek spending more in the casino, which only made Marek feel all the guiltier: he was going along with it knowing full well that he wasn't going to spend another piece of gold.  Nevertheless, despite his guilt, Marek kept his hand on Cash's thigh until the show's intermission a few minutes later.

The young man stood as soon as the lights went up.

"Come on," he hissed, tugging on Marek's arm.  "Let's get out of here."

Marek rose, and they left, threading their way out among the crowd of men already calling for the second half of the show to begin.  Once they were back in the hotel's lobby, Cash turned to him with a rather mischievous smile.

"Well, if you aren't satisfied with the bunnies, what _would_ you like to do?"

Now that there was a little distance between them, Marek felt more in control of himself.  He folded his arms and answered gruffly, "I should go check on my dog."

Cash arched an eyebrow.  "You certainly worry a lot about that animal."

"He was my mother's," Marek muttered, starting up the stairs to his floor without waiting to see if Cash would follow him or not.  Cash did come after him, and he came right into Marek's room as if he owned the place.  _But I suppose he does_ , Marek thought.

Cash gasped and took a step back when he saw Boris snoozing on a rug in the middle of the room.  "Th-that's some dog," he stammered, eyeing the St. Bernard nervously.

For his part, Boris paid the young man no attention.  He opened one eye and cocked it at Marek, then thumped his heavy tail on the floor a single time and went back to his nap.

"He is very gentle."  Marek stepped over Boris and sat down on the edge of the bed, regarding the dog in order to keep from looking at Cash.  He hadn't really expected Cash to come with him, and now he had no idea what to do with the boy.

"I-I see."  Cash didn't seem convinced of Boris' good temperament, and he edged around the dog timidly.  After he was past Boris, however, he began inspecting the room with that same air of ownership.  "Are you finding everything to your liking?"  
  
"Yes, quite."  Marek watched as the young man poked around the room and the attached bathroom.  Cash worked his way around to the bed, then sat down very close to Marek.

"You're sure?  There's nothing I can do to make you more. . . comfortable?"

"What is this all about?" Marek sighed, turning to look into Cash's eyes, which were a dusty shade of turquoise.  "I can only assume that you are not this. . . friendly to all of your guests."

"No-o-o," Cash said slowly.  "It's just. . . well. . . ."  He echoed Marek's sigh and sat back, leaning on his hands with something of a pout.  "It's this thing Carrie and I do-- we've found that flirting with our best customers influences them to spend more.  Usually, she takes the guys and I handle the women. . . but she said she wasn't getting anywhere with you, so I should give it a try."  Cash gave him an embarrassed sideways look.

". . . I see."  It was what Marek had suspected, yet he was still disappointed.  _Fool_ , he scolded himself, _what else could he want with you?_

"I'm. . . sorry," Cash hesitated.  "I hope I didn't offend you."

"No.  Of course not."  Marek turned back to face Boris again, who slept on, oblivious.  "Now you can save yourself the trouble of putting on such an act."

"Mmn."  Cash sat up again, then shocked Marek by sliding his arms around his waist and resting his chin on the older man's shoulder.  "Good.  So now I can flirt with you just because I like you?"

" _What?_ "  Marek jumped a little.  "You cannot be telling me you. . . you are attracted to _me_."

"Why not?" breathed Cash.  He gave Marek's neck a slight nuzzle.  "You're very sexy."

Marek's heart raced, even though he still didn't believe Cash was telling the truth.  He managed to extract himself from the young man's grip and turned to face him, breathing heavily.  "But. . . _why_?"

Cash shrugged.  "I don't know.  You're just. . . different from everyone else here.  For instance, most men shave when they stay in a five-star hotel," he added with a little smirk.

"Erm, sorry."  Marek rubbed his chin self-consciously.

"Oh, but I like the rugged look."  Cash leaned forward again and touched Marek's cheek, then trailed his fingertips down to his chest.  "You're not really handsome. . . but I still think you're hot."

Marek tried to protest one last time, even as Cash slowly rubbed his chest through his shirt.  "But you are so young.  You can see, I am so much older--"

"That just makes it hotter," Cash grinned.  He scrambled around to sit behind Marek on the bed and rested his hands on his shoulders.  "Look, give me a chance, okay?  I can make you like me, I promise."

Marek had no doubt of that, considering how much he already did like the boy.  Yet his misgivings still left him doubtful: no one had ever come on to him like this before.  Why should Cash want to now?

He jumped once more when Cash reached around him and started unbuttoning his shirt.  "Tell you what. . . take this off and lie down.  You seem _very_ tense, so let me help you relax."

The northerner couldn't bring himself to resist any longer.  He shrugged out of his shirt, then lay down on his stomach.  "Like this?" he asked brusquely.

"Perfect," Cash purred.   Marek felt him shift on the bed to lean over, then he felt the young man's warm hands on his shoulders.  "I've had enough massages in my life; I should know how to give a good one!" Cash declared as he began to dig his fingertips into the tight muscles just behind either side of Marek's neck.  Marek gasped faintly at the sudden burst of pain he felt.

"Wow," Cash muttered, "your muscles are hard as rocks!  Either you work out, or you're _really_ stressed."

"The latter, I am afraid," Marek mumbled against the bed spread.  "My hands are fairly strong, but that is all."

"What do you do?"  Cash shifted his hands to Marek's shoulder blades.

"I was a doctor in Orkutsk, where Alexej is from.  Now I mostly only grow herbs for the village, and I am perfecting the art of preparing them.  My mother. . . she was an expert.  I hope to someday attain her skill."

"Ooh, what do these. . . herbs do?"

Marek chuckled at the interest in his voice.  "It is only nook grass-- it generally warms the body when either taken internally or applied externally."

"You mean you eat it?"  Cash's touch slid down Marek's sides to his lower back.

"Well, you _can_ , but you probably would not want to.  My mother taught me to brew it in tea.  I. . . I will make you some if you wish," he offered rather shyly.  
  
"I'd like that."  Cash worked in silence for a while, and Marek did feel himself loosen up to a degree.  Still, the thought of Cash touching him, pressing his delicate hands to Marek's bare skin, made it difficult to relax completely-- especially when Cash straddled his hips and leaned down to dig his palms into Marek's back.

"Ohh," Marek moaned involuntarily, shifting under Cash's hands.  Cash rubbed against him enticingly and massaged his back harder.  After a moment, however, he moved off of Marek.

"Turn over," the young man ordered.  Marek reluctantly obeyed, and Cash straddled him again to sit in his lap.  He grinned down at Marek as the older man looked up nervously into his oddly colored eyes.  Cash placed his hands on Marek's chest and began massaging his pectoral muscles slowly.  
  
 _Goddess,_ Marek thought, though he managed to keep silent.  He closed his eyes as Cash gently pressed on the pressure points on either side of Marek's breast bone; as with his back, it hurt but in a good way.  Then the young man laid his hands flat against Marek's chest and began rubbing it.

"Growing herbs must be tough work," Cash murmured.  "You're in _very_ good shape."  He pressed harder against Marek's pectorals, eliciting another unbidden moan from the northerner.  Cash's own breathing grew a little quicker.  "And you really don't think you're attractive?  Don't you. . . have a lover?"

Marek opened his eyes again in surprise; Cash was blushing and looking at him apprehensively.

"No.  Not. . . not for a long time."

"Good," Cash hissed, then suddenly bent down and pressed his mouth to the base of Marek's throat where his clavicles met.  Marek drew in his breath as Cash caressed him there, then began kissing his way down Marek's breast bone.

"Cash," Marek breathed as the young man lowered himself to lie against him, embracing him as he continued to kiss his chest.  Marek slowly put his own arms around Cash's shoulders, savoring the feeling of holding the boy's warm body against him.

Cash moved his mouth to Marek's right nipple, teasing it with his tongue before sucking on it.  Marek gasped and tilted his head back at the jolt of pleasure he felt.  Noting his reaction, Cash began rubbing his other nipple with a finger at the same time.  Marek groaned and squirmed under his touch.

After a few moments, Cash shifted to Marek's neck and nipped at his skin.  Marek felt the younger man's mouth move up the side of his neck, then suddenly press against his own lips.  Marek was so surprised, he could hardly react for an instant, then he parted his lips and let Cash thrust his tongue into his mouth.  As Cash kissed him eagerly, Marek raised one hand to the boy's blue hair, tangling his fingers in it, then held his head still while he kissed Cash back.  He couldn't remember the last time he had kissed someone like that-- or had wanted to so badly.  Cash tasted faintly of the wine they had had at dinner, making his kisses all the more exquisite.  What's more, he was grinding his hips against Marek's forcefully.  Marek dropped his other hand to rest on Cash's hip, holding him down while he thrust his own up against him.  Cash squealed into his mouth and kissed him even more frantically.

Marek lost track of how long they kissed, but Cash finally lifted his head, breathing heavily.

"My jaw hurts," he said with a weak grin.  Marek looked up at him as he tried to catch his own breath, then he reached up and stroked back the locks of blue hair that had fallen into the younger man's eyes.  Cash flushed slightly and covered one of Marek's hands with his own.  As Cash lifted his free hand, Marek noticed again the scar on its palm.  He caught Cash's wrist and gently turned his hand over.

"What happened here?"

"Oh, that's the Golding family mark."  Cash smiled and lay down again, half sprawled on Marek and half on the bed.  He put his head on Marek's shoulder and regarded his hand.  "Carrie and I both have it from when we took over the casino.  The marks are burned on each Golding's hands after he or she completes a trial down at the Dragon Graveyard."  
  
"It did not hurt?"  Marek traced the curved symbol with a fingertip.

"It hurt like a bitch," Cash retorted.  "But it was worth it."  He closed his hand over Marek's finger, trapping him.  "It shows we're true Goldings, even though we're adopted."

"Oh, you are?  I did not know."

"Yeah.  Dad found us when we were babies and raised us, all by himself."   Cash's voice sounded slightly wistful when he spoke of his adopted father.  Marek knew from Alexej that Golding had been dead for a year-- _as long as Mama_ , he thought-- but he did not know how it happened.

"What happened to him?" he asked Cash gently.  "If you do not mind telling me."

"I don't mind."  Cash let go of Marek's finger and dropped his hand to rest on the northerner's chest.  "He was murdered."  He laughed quietly, sadly.  "He was the strongest man in Baccarat and a hundred miles around, but even he couldn't defend himself.  When I think about how it happened. . . ."  Cash shuddered.  "It was awful."

"You don't have to talk about it," Marek said quickly, already feeling guilty for bringing it up.  
  
"No, I. . . I want to.  It sorta helps."  Cash slid his arm over Marek and pressed his cheek against his shoulder.  "Someone broke into the mansion in the middle of the night-- he got past all the bodyguards and everything.  I heard this loud crash, and I got up to see what it was.  Carrie was too scared to even come out of her room, but I went and looked-- the guy had broken down Dad's door.  And when I went into his room--"  He broke off, then took a deep breath and pressed onward.  "It was like a nightmare.  There was a jester there with a long scepter and. . . and he had stabbed Dad with it.  It went right through him."

Marek drew in his breath sharply, feeling as if the ground had fallen away beneath him.  Cash didn't notice and went on, "I must have yelled something, I dunno what-- maybe for the guards.  That jester looked at me, and just-- he just _laughed_.  Then he pulled the scepter out and disappeared.  Into thin air.  By the time the guards had recovered enough to come to us, there was nothing there except. . . except Dad.  And he was already dead.  I was glad Carrie was such a coward though-- she didn't have to see it."

The softness with which he spoke these words showed Marek that Cash really did care about his sister.  However, Marek was still fixed on something else Cash had said.

"Impaled on a scepter.  My mother, she--"  He closed his eyes tightly.  "She died the same way."

Marek felt Cash's head lift suddenly from his shoulder.  "The jester killed her too?"

"No.  It was far more unbelievable than that."  Marek told him about the sudden influx of wolves that had appeared in Orkutsk, followed by the arrival of the demonic winged dog who had killed his mother Marta-- and about how Marta died to protect him, her son.

"I failed her," Marek said tightly when he was finished.  "If I had just been quicker, or not let myself be overcome--"

"No."  Cash reached up and put his fingers over Marek's lips, silencing him.  "If the same. . . being, in whatever form, killed her as killed my father, there was nothing you could have done.  My father could stop anything. . . but he couldn't stop _it_.  It would have only killed you too."

"I wish it had," Marek mumbled against Cash's fingertips, voicing the thought he had tried to suppress throughout the months since Marta's death.

"Marek!"  Cash sat up and leaned over him, glaring down at him.  "Don't say that!"  He kissed Marek hard then glared at him again.  "I like you way too much for you to say things like that."

"All right, I am sorry."  Marek smiled faintly at Cash's stern expression.

"Hmph!"  Cash laid his hands on either side of Marek's head, smoothing back his wild black hair with his fingertips, then he bent and nuzzled his forehead.  "I _do_ like you a lot.  Do you like me?"  The question sounded so childish and sweet, it made Marek smile even more.

"Yes."  He drew Cash's head down far enough to kiss his mouth.  "Very much."

"Mmm," was the only reply he got as Cash kissed him back.  Finally, the boy sat up and sighed.

"I'd better get back home-- Carrie's gonna start asking questions if I'm out too late."

"All right."  Marek sat up too, feeling a little embarrassed that he was half-naked while Cash was still fully dressed.  He asked softly, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Cash beamed.  "I can show you around Baccarat-- and you can make me some of that tea of yours.  Why don't you come by the mansion when you're ready?"

Marek nodded.  "I will see you in the morning, then."  
  
Cash stood and tiptoed nervously past Boris, who had slept through everything.  He paused at the door and blew Marek a kiss, then let himself out.  When he was gone, Marek sank back down to lie on the bed and closed his eyes.

_What am I doing?_ he thought in bewilderment.  _He is so young. . . and so far away from Orkutsk._   He would have to leave Cash in just a few days; he had no business becoming. . . involved with him.

Yet Marek didn't think he could stay away.  The boy captivated him, despite Marek's first impression of him as a spoiled brat, and despite the fact that they had only known each other a few hours.  More importantly, Cash was the first person since Marta's death (excepting Boris, naturally) who seemed to care anything about Marek.

Marek's thoughts were consumed with getting to see Cash again, and he knew there was no way he could force himself to keep away from the mansion the next day.  _I just cannot fall in love with him_ , Marek told himself.  _I cannot_.


	2. Chapter 2

Cash was whistling cheerfully when he got back to the Golding mansion.  The guard let him in with a salute, and Cash sauntered through the empty house into the living room-- where he found Carrie waiting for him, seated at his desk and smirking with her arms crossed.

"And just where have _you_ been?" she asked in an insinuating tone.

"Nowhere!" he retorted automatically, although he felt his face grow hot.  No way his sister would miss that blush.

"Unh hunh.  And I suppose doing nothing is, like, what got your cravat and your hair all messed up?"

Cash started and looked down; sure enough, his cravat was rumpled and nearly falling off of his neck.  He straightened it, then smoothed down his hair self-consciously.

"I take it you were. . . _entertaining_ our guest?" Carrie persisted.

"Well-- _you_ told me to!" Cash grumbled.  He sat down on the sofa across from her.

"Yes, but normally we just _flirt_ with the customers.  What'd _you_ do, sleep with him?"  
  
"No!"  Cash scowled and folded his own arms.  "We just. . . uh. . . made out a little."

"Goddess, Cash, he's old enough to, like, be our dad!" Carrie exploded.

"So?  He bought 2000 tokens!" Cash sulked.  "And besides. . . I. . . like him."

"Well I should hope so if you're gonna make out with him or whatever!"  She sighed and propped her elbows on the desk, resting her chin on her hands.  "Honestly, Cash, I don't really care what you do with him.  Just, like, be careful, you know?  We don't want the word getting out that you fool around with guys-- most people around here wouldn't care, but like, you know how some of those small towns are.  Not to mention the Argonians."

Cash rolled his eyes.  "Carrie, Marek's not going to go around telling people or anything.  I'm sure he doesn't want those hillbillies up north knowing he likes boys either."

"It's not just that either."  She raised an eyebrow at him.  "Just imagine what would happen if it got around that the Golding twins are easy."

"I am _not_ easy!" Cash snapped.

Carrie shrugged.  "Hey, I'm just saying."  She stood and yawned, then started for the stairs.  "Anyway, now that I know you aren't, like, shacking up with him, I can go to bed.  Sweet dreams, big brother," she finished snidely as she went up to her room.

Cash waited a few minutes to be sure she'd be shut up in her own bedroom before he went upstairs.  Finally he ascended the stairs himself and went into the room that had once belonged to his father.  Cash had moved into Golding's room after the latter's death, but he still felt odd at times about using it.  Now it forced him to consider what his father might have thought about Cash's actions that evening.

 _Dad was such a big, tough guy,_ Cash thought as he started to undress.  _He'd probably have a fit if he knew his son was a fairy._   But then, Golding himself had never married, and he'd spent most of his free time down at the tavern with other men.  Maybe he wouldn't have minded at all.

Cash slipped off his jacket and cravat, then looked at himself in his father's mirror. _And maybe I'm not a **total** fairy,_ he reasoned with his reflection.   _I've never fooled around with guys before now. . . ._   After all, he'd shared clandestine kisses with a handful of girls before, never with men.  But then, he'd never done anything else with the girls, certainly not the things most guys his age talked about. . . and when he _had_ kissed them, it had never been as exciting as kissing Marek.

Cash's heart raced as he finished changing into his pajamas, remembering how Marek's hand had felt on his thigh and the warmth of the older man's arms when he finally put them around Cash and held him.  _Then the way he kissed me_ , Cash thought elatedly.  _Holding me down like that. . . ._

He got into bed and pulled his sheets up to his chin, shivering with delight as he relived every moment of his evening with the taciturn northerner.  All of Carrie's concerns seemed to be of no consequence: Marek's age made Cash all the more proud that Marek wanted him, and really, what did it matter if anyone _did_ find out?  Getting what he desired was far more important.


End file.
